


The white winged Dove and the Nightingale

by Mystralist



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A get-together story post Armageddon, Bottom Aziraphale/top Crowley, But also a bit naughty at some point, But also an idea about how Heaven and Hell will deal with the world not ending, Fluffy, I basically tried to take both and make it into one story help, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 07:30:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21071183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystralist/pseuds/Mystralist
Summary: The world didn't end. Which leaves an angel and a demon with a ton of freedom, and they find freedom is sometimes more difficult to deal with than being in a golden cage. The world between black and white will be explored as our two favourite celestials try to find their new purposes, in the world and with each other.





	1. Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first Good Omens fiction. Make yourself a good old hot cocoa in a white angels mug and see if what I'm trying to do here appeals to you.  
Little note, I will merge the TV version and the book version a bit sometimes. In the first chapter, I do this mostly with Crowley's apartment and make it much whiter and sterile than shown in the show.  
I have no beta and English is not my native language, so bear with me and please excuse mistakes I most likely make.  
And lastly, comments and feedback are always welcome!  
Enjoy! <3

_~_

_It's my own desire_  
_It's my own remorse_  
_Help me to decide_  
_Help me make the most Of freedom_  
_And of pleasure_  
_Nothing ever lasts forever_  
_Everybody wants to rule the world_

__

_\- Lorde (OG Tears for Fears); Everybody wants to rule the world_

_~_

‘I suppose I should get him to drop me off at the bookshop.’ Aziraphale said.

Crowley turned towards him, biting his lips. ‘It burned down. Remember?’

The angel’s eyes trailed off, remembering. An almost hopeless expression flew across his face.

‘You can stay at my place. If you like.’ Crowley continued softly.

Aziraphale locked eyes with the demon for a few moments without saying a word. Then, doubt rose. ‘I- I don’t think my side would like that.’

‘You don't have a side anymore. Neither of us do. We’re on our own side. Like Agnes said, we’re going to have to choose our faces wisely.’

Crowley emptied the last sip of the wine bottle they had been sharing. Then he held up a hand, and the approaching bus came to a stop in front of them. They got in without a word. When Aziraphale stumbled along the narrow aisle, Crowley had already made himself comfortable, slouching in a bus seat, looking out of the window into the night.

The angel had not planned it, had not even thought about it, it just sort of happened. He saw Crowley’s hand resting in the space between their seats. And as he sat down next to him, he took the demon’s hand in his own, pressing it gently.

Crowley’s head shot around and he stared first at their locked hands, then at the angel, eyebrows rising higher by the second. Aziraphale wished he could see his friends eyes. But he knew he wouldn’t, so he didn’t meet his face.

‘Thank you.’ he whispered, smiling straight forward.

‘Fo’ what?’ Crowley asked.

Aziraphale swallowed. ‘Oh… everything, really. That you give me a place to stay. Tonight and… and in general.’

‘Oh, shut up, angel. Armageddon didn’t become you well did it, you are bloody weepy.’ the demon responded with a dismissive snort.

‘Perhaps.’ Aziraphale smiled weakly, still not looking at his friend. ‘That must be it. Yes.’

They passed several intersections before the angel dared to glance at the other man. Crowley was looking out of the window again, his copper hair highlighted by the passing street lamps.  
Then his eyes wandered down. The demon had not withdrawn his hand. They were still holding each other.

Exhaling deeply, Aziraphale eased up a bit as the bus brought them to Mayfair.

None of the other bus passengers seemed to wonder why the bus destined for Oxford would detour through Mayfair and let off two men in front of a fancy looking house where not even a bus stop was. In fact, the driver did not even seem to notice he had stopped at all.

The angel had let go of his friend’s hand when they stood up to exit, and was now wearily eying the towering building in front of them.

’Home, sweet home.’ Crowley chimed as he approached the house, door opening magically by itself. He vanished through it, only to appear again a few moments later. ‘You comin’?’ he asked the angel.

Aziraphale seemed to wake up from a trance. ‘Oh, yes. Yes. Of course.’ he smiled, the lines around his lips full of tension.

While Crowley had come by Aziraphale’s bookshop countless times (even had stayed one or the other night), Aziraphale had never once been to the demon’s place. Now he wondered why that was. His current uneasy stomach turns might be his answer. He forced himself to follow Crowley inside.

The lights turned on by themselves as Crowley walked lazily before Aziraphale along the corridor, pointing this direction and that. ‘Here is the kitchen. Over there bathroom. All the way in the back are the plants. Just around here is the living room and this is the study. Or, just look into the rooms and you know what it is for.’

The angel followed Crowley’s gestures with his head and glanced into very modern, white rooms with designer furniture in black and white, and art works on the walls and on shelves. The house looked like no one was living in it.

‘Have you lived here long?’ Aziraphale asked, realising that he actually had no idea.

‘Yeah.’ Crowley responded.

‘I must say, it has a very… modern… minimalistic approach.’ the angel tried.

Crowley grinned over his shoulder. ‘I know it’s not your style. I’m not one for the domestic bliss. But I know you are into that… mortal way of living, so feel free to use the entire thing. Would do it good to be used after so long, I reckon.’

‘J-Jolly good.’ Aziraphale said while he tried desperately not to linger too long on Crowley’s swaying hips as he sauntered on. Alcohol really did not help his way of walking. And he found he did not mind this at all.

The only door that was closed was at the very end of the corridor. Crowley stooped in front of it, took the handle, then whirled around towards the angel without opening it, looking at him meaningfully.

‘And lastly. The demon’s liar.’ Crowley said playfully overdramatic, swung the door open and gestured for the angel to enter after him.

Lights turning on automatically again, Aziraphale looked at another stylish simple room with a big bed and a huge painting mounted behind it. The bed was probably the only thing the angel had seen so far which actually looked cozy and inviting. It had a huge boxspring mattress, thick big pillows and several blankets covered in satin sheets. 

Then Aziraphale’s eyes fixated on the massive artwork which showed an oil painting of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. All different kinds of animals were gathered around the first humans and the Tree of Knowledge was carrying rich apples in the background. A massive snake was coiled around a thick branch above Eve, who held an apple in her hand.

‘I might have been a bit vain with that one.’ Crowley mentioned as he held out a glass of wine towards his friend as he passed. Then he took a big sip of his own before he continued: ’Humans have a habit of cluttering their walls with what they consider achievements. School graduations and sport awards and the like. Stuff they are proud of.’

Aziraphale’s eyes still did not leave the painting. ‘And you consider that an achievement?’

‘Well.. yeah. The only one I’m proud of at least.’ Crowley shrugged.

‘It’s human’s introduction to sin.’ the angel said.

‘It’s human’s introduction to awareness and thus, choice.’ Crowley’s voice got serious. ‘One might think after today, you would actually value this little capability a bit more.’

The angel’s breath shook with a chuckle, and his eyes darted to the floor, almost ashamed. ‘Oh… of course.’ He fiddled with his sleeves. ‘I- I’m sorry, Crowley. I didn’t mean any ah… disrespect. Only, I am still… I mean - I think I-‘

‘Yeah, I know.’ the demon interrupted the stammering, already grinning again, the seriousness forgotten. ‘You are still a bit wound up in…’ the gestured upwards. ‘… their ways. It’s fine. Old habits die hard.’

The grin grew wider on Crowley’s thin lips as he leaned against a cupboard, and Aziraphale answered with one in return, feeling relieved to be understood. They both took a wine sip pause.  
’Rubens is it then, if I’m not mistaken?’ the angel said after a moment of silence.

‘Rubens and Brueghel de Oude, ‘Forbidden Fruit’.’ Crowley over accentuated the last ’t'. ‘Didn’t know you knew your arts, angel.’

‘Not too much, really. Just the one’s you are in.’ This was not the first time today that Aziraphale had acted or talked without thinking. For the normally conscientious angel it clearly showed that the occurrences of the day had rattled his very core tremendously for him to be rather intuitive for a change. And right now he wanted to bite his tongue for it.

He glanced at his friend in alarm. But the demon only raised his brows, a playful grin spreading across his face. ‘’S that so?’

‘Uhm -‘ Aziraphale started, panicky thinking of a way out.

‘Well, I suppose your former lot uses pictures like this up in holy land for arrow shooting exercise.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Crowley.’

‘Come on, don’t tell me you cannot see Gabriel promising every angel who hits the serpent right between the eyes two extra miracles a week.’

‘Oh, stop it. What a preposterous idea.’ Aziraphale said, not succeeding at hiding a slight smile.

They both chuckled.

Then, heavy silence fell. And then, clearing throats on both sides.

‘So… mi casa es tu casa, or something like that. You can do whatever you feel like.’ Crowley said.

‘You should get some sleep, my dear.’ Aziraphale said. He had noticed that Crowley was, for once, not leaning against stuff to appear casual or cool. He needed support.

As in answer, the demon rubbed his eyes underneath his shades. ‘Yeah, I… I’m kinda whacked, not gonna lie.’

Supernatural entities, no matter the political party, did not need to do whatever humans did to stay alive. Food. Sleep. All optional, nothing necessary. However, as with many devices of any kind, if the operations stood still for too long, they were prone to disfunction eventually. Like an old clock that was not wound up for a while would come to a standstill, or a drainage system that was not flushed in a long time would stop working.

Ethereal or occult beings would not stop to function in any case. However, they would find, especially when exposed to living in earthly conditions, that the occasional sleep when worn out, or the ingestion of food when stressed and feeling low did indeed help for overall well being and energy recharge.  
And while Aziraphale had recognised and exercised this much longer and more intense than Crowley (mostly for pure pleasure, let’s be honest), the demon too had, on one occasion or the other, started doing human self care as well. Eating, especially with his best friend, had become routine. Even taking the occasional shower found him being refreshed and restarted. But the demon exercised nothing more religiously (pun intended) than sleeping. And right now, he never wanted to do anything more in his entire 6000 years of existence than rest his spinning head on his black satin pillows and sleep until the next Armageddon rolled around.

The angel knew how much his friend valued and right now needed sleep, so he nodded knowingly, a kind smile dancing on his lips. ‘I won’t be any bother to you, I promise. I think I will… I might just…’ he looked around, feeling a bit lost.

Crowley had sunk on the edge of the bed. ‘Sleep’s not so bad when you get used to it. Want to give it a shot?’ he asked, gesturing to the space next to him. The bed was spacious and could easily accommodate two people.

The angel’s eyes grew wide. ‘Oh.’ he exclaimed, at a loss for words. He shifted his body this way and that, not sure where to look. ‘Oh. I couldn’t possibly. I would just disrupt your rest. And I am sure there is… a… a guest bed or … ah…’ he looked around, desperate for an escape.

Crowley chuckled. ‘A guest bed. Really? Do I look like someone who has people over a lot?’

‘I mean to say I… I think I remember seeing a sofa in another… room…’

‘Yeah. If you manage to close just one eye on that stone hard piece of modern disappointment, be my guest.’ The demon put his empty glass away and slid now completely onto the bed. His lean figure fell backwards, stemming himself up on his elbows and waiting for the angel to say something.

Aziraphale looked at his accomplice with a hammering heart. His eyes darted again up to the ‘Forbidden Fruit’, eyes fixated on the apple. Then back to Crowley, who was looking at him expectantly. _Temptation._

The angel swallowed loudly. ‘I ah… I think I will just walk around for a bit to… ah…. calm my… ‘ he gestured to his heart. ‘I - I mean…’ he quickly pointed at his head instead. ‘This. Ah. Yes. My head. Too many things happened today. I need to… clear my thoughts a bit.’

Crowley shrugged and took his glasses off. Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat when he saw two yellow eyes look at him tiredly. ‘Sure. Suit yu’self. G’night, angel.’

Aziraphale turned around immediately and left the room as if he was being chased out. ‘Rest well, Crowley.’ he said over his shoulder. He couldn’t watch him settle in bed. It felt too… intimate. Everything about this felt too intimate.

~ ~ ~ ~

As the night ticked by, heavy rain started to fall outside. Aziraphale, quite untypical for an angel, really liked the sound of rain and as he was walking through Crowley’s apartment, he relished in the relaxation the drumming on the windows brought him. 

Aziraphale really did not intend to go through Crowley’s things or snoop around (not that there was an awful lot one could snoop around in), but he could not help being helplessly curious about the place his best friend had been living in all these decades, if not centuries. 

He did not need to see the long line of CD’s to know the demon was quite fond of music, or the different paintings and sculptures distributed in the apartment to know Crowley had a soft spot for art as well. He had no idea, however, what this 'Golden Girls DVD collection' was about. Aziraphale stayed well away from the technological gear. For all he knew of modern technology it could come to live and jump at you at any moment.

What left him rather surprised, were the gigantic plants occupying a room all by themselves. As Aziraphale entered cautiously, straining his neck as he took in the size of the beautiful plants, he heard a low shivering noise. Walking through the thicket, it took him several moments to understand it wasn’t the rain outside, but came from the plants themselves. They were shaking ever so slightly. The angel placed his hand on a big shivering leaf.

‘Shh shhh shhhhhh.’ he said calmly. ‘Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.’ 

A dim light started shining from the angel as he smiled reassuringly at Crowley’s Eden all round. The plants slowly, one by one, stopped shivering, extending their leaves as if to catch some of the white rays surrounding Aziraphale. ‘There. See? No danger. No need to be scared. It’s just love.’ He wasn’t sure who he was actually directing these words to.  
After another moment he took his hand away again and, with a last smile towards the garden, left the room.

Crowley’s study seemed to be the only room in his flat that had any evidence of living in it. When the angel glanced in, he saw a broken ansaphone on the ground, accompanied by countless pieces of paper scattered across the room. A globe was sitting in a corner.

Aziraphale entered slowly, looking around. As always, it is a book that catches his attention. He picked it up. 

**‘The Extremely big book of Astronomy’. **

It was empty.  
The angel started picking up all the torn out pages, then sat down on Crowley’s fancy red-golden chair to look through them. Each page showed a picture of a different star, solar system or planet constellation. 

It was an automatism, really. A book is old or broken and needs a little tender, love and care, the angel would do it. It was one of the joys of owning a bookshop. Without even thinking, he miracled himself a hot cocoa and a specialised super glue, put on his tiny round glasses and started sorting the pages by page number to carefully glue them back into the cover in its right order. If Crowley was awake he would have pointed out why the angel did not simply miracle it back together. But Aziraphale liked the process of fixing a book, of getting to know its own little world between the pages. It was like stripping a stranger of his anonymity and discover an old friend.

Then, his hand suddenly stopped halfway to his cocoa and instead returned to page 21 he had just glued into the book. His hand travelled over the bright blue shining star on the picture and the print underneath. Alpha Centauri.

_> ‘We can run away together. Alpha Centauri.’ <_

The words echoed in his mind. He read the information on the star constellation.

> ‘… Alpha Centauri is the third brightest star system visible from earth. It appears to the eye as a single bright star, the brightest in the southern constellation Centaurus the Centaur. Only with modern telescopes had it been discovered that the bright star actually consists of two stars orbiting very close to one another so the naked eye cannot tell them apart.’ 

_Two stars orbiting so close around one another they appear to be one…_

Aziraphale exhaled deeply and leaned back. The satisfaction he had felt mending the book was gone. He suddenly felt an unfamiliar overwhelming tiredness.

Maybe Crowley was right and sleep would not be an unwise attempt…

The angel put his glasses away and left the half finished book behind on the red desk as he got up and out of the study. His eyes glanced towards the bedroom for a second, but then he marched determinedly towards the living room.

As he settled down on the white spotless sofa, he immediately knew that Crowley had had a point. His description of the sofa being as hard as a rock had been an understatement, if anything. Not ready to admit defeat right away, Aziraphale tried to turn this way and that, trying to find a comfortable position. It was no good. Frustrated, he sat up again and started playing with his hands. 

He knew what he could - no, what he wanted to do. Had wanted the minute it was suggested. It was just… the freedom of it all. 

All of his existence, the demon and the angel had been divided by the two principle powers that shaped existence on Earth. There had always been this invisible barrier between them that could not been crossed. And while this reality had been often given the angel a headache, it had also provided a security. A sense of control, which had eased the angel’s mind in his moments of doubt and despair. And 6000 years was a long time to live in this invisible system. A system Aziraphale had come to love and hate at the same time. But his higher sense of duty had always kept him standing, had always made him trust in the plan. The greater Good. His entire being was representative of that faith, that conviction that what he stood for, what he represented was good and important and right.

And now, within a single day, all this had been taken away from him. He was no longer an angel, at least not an angel of the conventional definition. And he wasn’t even sure he still wanted to be one. Questioned who or what he was working for this entire time. And who and what Crowley had been working for. 

And now none of them worked for any side anymore. Which erased the barrier, the safety zones they had been in and on which Aziraphale had relied on so much in the past. And with all this gone and only them left. As they were. On their own side. Felt overwhelmingly intimate.

He didn’t know how Crowley felt about all this. They had never talked about these things. It felt too close to a minefield. Aziraphale had gone through all kinds of stages. Sometimes the force of the unspeakable had almost suffocated him and he had wanted to scream it into Crowle’s face, wanted so desperately to open up about it. Then again, other times he was almost glad they never touched on it and wanted to just bury these feelings deep down in the deepest depths of his soul, never to lay eyes on them again. And now… now… 

Aziraphale stood up abruptly and walked towards the bedroom. He slowly opened the door and peeked in. 

Thunder was rumbling outside. Crowley was sleeping.

Aziraphale could see his copper spiky hair peeking out of a bundle of black satin. He sneaked inside and tiptoed up to the bed.

The angel’s eyes, just a moment ago insecure and wide, grew soft as he watched his best friend sleep. The demon was curled up on one side, partially covered in a thick blanket. At some point he must have miracled himself in comfortable black sleeping pants and a loose tank top.

A smile appeared on Aziraphale’s lips as he took in his peaceful sleeping shape, face so relaxed and free of worries or sarcasm or spite. Its as a rare sight, really. All of Aziraphale’s doubts which had occupied his mind before seemed to ease away in that moment.

He miracled himself into a white sleeping gown before cautiously slipping into the bed on the free side. He made sure not to glance up to the painting again.

The angel rested his head on a pillow, facing the demon.

First, he just lay there for a very long time, just enjoying the cold sensation of the satin against his skin and the warm sensation Crowley caused in his chest being so close next to him. Then, his hand slowly started wandering over. 

He had already dared the devil (or god.. or both really) today when he had taken Crowley’s hand in the bus. Something he had never dared to attempt before. And the demon had not retreated his hand. This left the angel with the almost overwhelming urge to do it again. Just… just a slight touch.

Crowley’s left hand was lying, palm upwards, in front of his face. Aziraphale stopped breathing (not that he needed to breathe in the first place) when his fingertips made contact. Then, ever so slightly, he slipped his hand into Crowley’s, not daring to close his fingers around the others in fear of him waking. He shouldn’t have bothered.

‘Your hand ’s ice cold, angel.’ could suddenly be heard.

Aziraphale froze. Crowley opened one eye to peer at his friend.

The angel was lost for words. He opened his mouth several times, just to close it again. He had never felt so naked.

‘A…a bit chilly I must say. Yes. Sorry, I didn’t mean to… to wake you. I’m just going to… ah…’ he eventually stammered, trying to retrieve his hand. But Crowley’s long fingers closed and he held on to it.

‘Com’ere. ‘S warmer under my blanket.’ 

‘Oh, I… I would just make you cold as well….’

‘Never get cold. Hellfire in ma’ blood or som’thin’.’ Crowley mumbled, speech slurred from sleepiness and alcohol.

Aziraphale watched Crowley lift his blanket up with his other hand, offering.

He had both eyes open now, watching.

The angel remembered something he had read not too long ago:

‘Men can withstand everything. Except temptation.’ 

Apparently this must be true for certain angels as well.

He came slowly closer underneath the offered blanket and Crowley covered his friend before retreating his arm again. He did not retreat the hand that was still holding the angel’s however.

It was only a handful of times that Aziraphale had been so close to the demon, and never was it a situation like this one. It was indeed almost hot underneath Crowley’s blanket, the demon now just inches away. The angel could see every detail of his face, every strand of his hair. Smell his scent. _Oh dear god, help me._

‘See? N’so bad, aye.’ Crowley smiled a one sided smile before his eyes fell shut again as if against his will.

It took Aziraphale much longer to fall asleep, but encircled with Crowley’s warmth and their hands locked together, he found he could no longer fight his own exhaustion. And the angel finally dared to let go enough to ease into a peaceful slumber.

——-


	2. Venture

_~_  
‘Why can't they remember  
What I'll never forget  
How these dreams can come undone  
When you're young 

_You give what you give cause they make you_  
Trapped inside a place that won't take you  
They want you to be what they make you  
It's already over and done  
When you're young’ 

_ \- 3 Doors Down; When you’re young _

  


_~_

We all know what came afterwards. Firstly, of course, the next morning. On which an angel and a demon sat down together with a strong cup of coffee to come up with a plan about what they were going to do to escape their head office’s wrath. And they did. Body-swapping. Simple, really. After they figured out that they wouldn't discorporate one another immediately. And, as it turned out, they did this just in time before hell (and heaven) broke loose on them. 

A demon washing himself clean in holy water. An angel so wicked not even Hellfire could burn him. They had created their very own side indeed. It had been one of their better ideas. A show much better executed and more believable than any of Aziraphale’s magic shows ever were. (Of course, that was not a high standard to compare it to.) Heaven and hell were irritated. And worried. Enough so that they let the outcasts be just that for the time being. Outcasts.

No one ever saw them swapping back. No one knew. And in the little moments of doubt in which Aziraphale checked his wings and wondered why he had not fallen yet and that God herself couldn’t possibly NOT know what they had been doing and what was actually going on, he calmed himself with his eternal conviction that everything was going to be fine, that they were going to make it work. Somehow. Somehow.

What made him almost more uneasy however, was the new rhythm the two celestials were easing into. 

After their little swapping game, it had only been three days after the world had not ended. And every one of those nights they had spent together. Together. Sleeping next to each other. The first night was purely circumstantial (wasn’t it?), since the bookshop had burned down. The second night just seemed plausible as they had gotten completely drunk after playing the biggest coupe on their former parties and actually got away with it. Given the last wine bottle was only emptied after the first dawn announced itself on the horizon, there was really no point in going home anymore. 

‘D’you wanna stay?’ Aziraphale had slurred.

‘Don’t see why not.’ Crowley had grinned drunkenly.

Sure, they could have sobered up. And just go about their day. They did not need to sleep. But that was one of those nights where the alcohol needed to be slept off,.Where passing out on the bed seemed the right thing, the _human_ thing to do given what they had been through. God, they had been on Earth for far too long indeed.

The third night was the one Aziraphale had started to worry. Because it had felt so natural to stay the night again at Crowley’s place. So self-evident they didn’t even mention it. Crowley didn’t ask. And Aziraphale didn’t confirm. He just stayed. And that was that. 

Cuddling seemed part of the new sleep over package too. Sometimes Aziraphale woke huddled against a sleeping Crowley. Sometimes one of the demon’s arms were wrapped around him. Aziraphale would look at him then, taking in the moment. An eternity of being an ethereal being and yet in these moments, wrapped in Crowley’s arms, was the first time Aziraphale felt truly in heaven. In the mornings, they broke apart, not mentioning the entwined positions they were partially waking up in. And went about their day, apparently very conscious to act like they had always acted in the long millennia of their friendship. It felt important to keep some of the old structure up, to have something old and known to hold on to in a world that had completely changed otherwise. 

On the third morning after Armageddidn’t, they went for a late brunch in Soho before deciding to have an afternoon coffee in the bookshop. Aziraphale was itching to look thoroughly through his book collection and discover the new pieces that Adam willed in.

But the angel would have to wait a bit longer until he was able to inspect his quarters. As soon as the pair entered the shop and the bell announced their arrival, they heard Aziraphale’s phone ring.

‘Oh, dear.’ the angel murmured, hurrying over to pick up the speaker.

‘Hello?’ he said in his most charming voice.

‘Finally! I have been trying to reach you all morning!’ a woman’s voice almost yelled at the other end. Aziraphale held the phone a few inches further away from his ear.

‘Who - who is this?’ he asked confused.

‘Anathema. Anathema Device. The uhm… bicycle lady from a few days ago.’ 

‘Oh, yes!’ Aziraphale said with delight. ‘Agnes Nutter’s descendant, of course. What can I do for you, dear?’

What followed was a blurted out waterfall of information, thoughts and worries and panic all stringed together, forming a barely understandable word - cocktail.

‘Dear… dear, please, calm down. I cannot understand a word, you are talking too erratic. What has happened?’

Sensing the alarm in Aziraphale’s voice, Crowley appeared next to the angel, pressing the loudspeaker button so he could listen in.

Anathema’s distraught voice filled the dusty bookstore. ‘- knew I had made a big mistake immediately, but what's burned is burned, and I don’t know what to do! There was a face, and I’m telling you, it was Agnes, Agnes herself, right in that smoke! I missed my plane now, I can never look my mother in the eyes again!’

Crowley frowned in confusion. He mouthed a silent ‘wha?’ at Aziraphale, who just shrugged his shoulders in response.

‘Hey, book girl. I’m afraid we don’t follow. Can you slow downing a bit?’ Crowley said.

‘Oh. Anthony, is that you?’ she asked.

‘Call me Crowley.’

‘Now, let’s try again.’ Aziraphale began. ‘You burned a book?’

‘Yes.’ Anathema said, voice breaking. She started sobbing.

‘Oh my dear, don’t cry.’ Aziraphale sympathised.

‘What book?’ asked Crowley.

‘Agnes’… new… prophecies.’ Anathema said between sobs.

‘New prophecies?’ Aziraphale asked, standing straighter.

‘Yes. She had them sent to me. The morning after… you know, the American airbase. Had made sure they are delivered to me when the world didn’t end.’

‘And you…?’ Aziraphale did not dare to finish that sentence.

‘Mh mh.’ Anathema confirmed, holding back another sob.

‘My dear Anathema! Why would you do that?’ the angel gasped. His eyes seemed to become watery as well. ‘Such a valuable book.’ he breathed.

‘Okay. Okay. Give me that.’ Crowley interfered, snatching the receiver from his friend before this became a crying party. ‘Hey, book girl. Don’t be so upset, it’s fine. It’s just a book.’ To that, both Anathema and Aziraphale started protest- sobbing. Crowley rolled his eyes. ‘Fine, it is a big deal to you. Then why did you burn the book?’

‘Because… I did… not want to… be a…Device… any longer.’ the occultist cried.

The demon made an understanding face and nodded. ‘That’s fair. So where’s the problem?’

‘The smoke! When Newt and I burned the book, Agnes’ face appeared in it, winking down at me. And I immediately knew it was a huge mistake!’ Anathema said.

‘Agnes…. winked down at you.’ Crowley repeated.

‘I know how that sounds. But it’s true! And you guys being ethereal and all, I thought maybe you could-‘

‘We are wha’?’ Crowley asked.

‘You now. Higher beings. Principalities or something. Spirits. Not sure about the exact category.’ Anathema said.

‘My dear, I think you are very much mistaken. We are… just two perfectly normal homo sapiens-‘ the angel started, but the occultist interrupted him: ‘Look, I am stranded at Heathrow airport right now, I missed my flight back home. So… can I come by your bookshop?’

‘Of course, dear.’ Aziraphale said into the loudspeaker.

‘Thank you. I’ll get a cab.’ she sounded relieved.

‘Oh. How about we pick you up? The traffic is atrocious at this time of day, and you are so distraught.’ the angel offered.

Crowley groaned loudly. Aziraphale snatched the receiver back. ‘We get going right away.’

~ ~ ~ ~

Heathrow airport was the biggest, busiest airport in England. Thousands of people entered and exited the country everyday from here. It was a place where people came and went on their journeys, where they used planes as means of transportation to follow whatever it was that drove them. Love. Duty. Money. Fear. An airport was a gateway to channel all of these people into their individual directions, to send them out and welcome them in.

A problem arose, however, when a person did not know where he or she was supposed to go. An airport could not tell you where to go. It could just offer options. And if your inner compass was going wildly in circles without ever standing still long enough to see a clear direction, it was hard to decide on a course. Which was why Anathema Device was passing restlessly back and forth, muttering hectically to herself while swinging a pendulum, tending this way and that, just to shake her head in exasperation and turn back again.  
Some people eyed the beautiful latina curiously, the long black flowing skirt, the colourful long jacket, the little round spectacles. Who people did not eye however, were two very different looking men walking through the crowd, looking this way and that, before spotting the witch and making a beeline for her.

‘There you are, dear!’ Aziraphale exclaimed, spreading his arms as he got close and taking Anathema gently by the upper arms. ‘We were looking all over for you. How are you feeling?’

Anathema was not exactly a very open personality. She was awkward and rather introverted and had a tendency to make people feel uneasy. A prominent feature of all the Device descendants. Which was why it was so unlike her to return the open kindness this man she barely knew showed her. She did not know why, but something about his warm smile, his twinkling soft eyes, his entire comfortable demeanour just made her feel at ease and trusting. She smiled relieved and felt tears blurring her vision. Annoyed of such an open display of sentiment, she blinked them away.

She saw Crowley sauntering behind Aziraphale, nodding towards her, then looking around. For some reason, his appearance made it easier to become more collected again. 

‘Thank you so much for coming, and I apologise for all the trouble you must have had coming here so quickly.’ she said to the shorter man.

‘Apologise to the two people who almost got run over.’ Crowley grumbled, apparently in a bad mood.

‘What?’ Anathema blinked in shock.

Aziraphale sighed. ‘If anyone, _you_ should apologise to them for you reckless driving.’ he shot over his shoulder. Anathema was glad Aziraphale didn’t see Crowley’s mocking face, imitating his friend silently.

‘Anyways.’ he faced Anathema again, flashing white teeth returning as he smiled apologetically. ‘Tell us again what the matter is, dear. I had trouble quite understanding the whole issue I’m afraid.’

‘Right. Yes.’ Anathema nodded, clearing her throat. She was determined to get it out clear and right this time. They were sitting down on a bench while Crowley kept strolling aimlessly around, apparently scanning the airport. 

‘So. Agnes had made sure I received her predictions all dated after the almost end of the world. And, well… I burned them all.’ _Don’t cry. Not again. Dignity, come on._  
‘And as the smoke was rising up in the air, I saw Agnes’ face forming in the smoke, smiling down at me and winking. And looking at me with just… such an intense stare, as if she was trying to tell me something. And in that moment I could just feel this giant wave of guilt and shame wash over me, as if I… as if I had let her down. Spat on her and all of my predecessors. And my mother. When she hears what I have done…’ her voice broke now. She looked at her hands.  
‘I extinguished the fire immediately after that. But it was too late.’ she added after a moment silently.

‘Oh, my dear, I am sure it is not so bad as you make it out to be. Your mother loves you truly, no matter what you decided to do, I am certain.’ Aziraphale tried, putting his hands on the woman’s in an attempt to console.

But Anathema just sorted. ‘You have not met my mother. Agnes’ book meant everything to her. Our families’ purpose meant everything to her. She had such high hopes for me…’ another break in her voice.

‘Isn’t smiling and winking a good sign?’ Crowley suddenly said, never walking out of earshot.

‘Huh?’ Anathema glanced up at him.

‘You said the Nutter witch smiled and winked at you. Doesn’t sound like she was mad at you.’ Crowely explained.

‘Well…’ Anathema thought about this. ‘Maybe… I.. I don’t know. I cannot place her reaction. I have always been incredibly gifted with reading her prophecies wrong. So…’

‘How did you even know it was her?’ Crowley asked.

‘That it was Agnes?’ 

‘Yeah. I mean, clearly you’ve never met for a cup of coffee or som’thin’. So.’ Crowley shrugged.

Anathema sat up straighter. ‘Well. I might not be a very talented witch, but I am a witch and I am a Device. And we have… dreams. And visions. We also get cognitions of the past sometimes. I have seen Agnes many times in… in here. With this eye.’ Anathema pointed to the middle of her forehead.

Aziraphale sighed empathetically. ‘I do understand the inner confusion you must be feeling. I mean, I am not sure you made the… I want to say, the wisest choice in, ah, in destroying -‘

‘Angel.’ Crowley cleared his throat warningly, as if Aziraphale was about to disobey an agreement. 

The angel’s eyes flickered over to Crowley and back. ‘… ah… yes, I mean… burning this… this book might have been… er…. even what Agnes had seen you would do? Who knows, maybe you acted as expected after all.’ Aziraphale suggested hopefully.

‘By the way, where's your boyfriend?’ Crowley interrupted once again, as if he finally remembered who was missing.

‘Oh.’ Anathema looked down again, feeling uncomfortable. ‘Newt?’

‘Yeah, the nerdy guy with the glasses.’

‘I… erm… sort of. Left him. He was the one planting this idea of freedom in my head and I… I listened. And I should not have.’ the witch explained, tears welling up in her brown eyes.

The angel pulled her gently into a soft embrace and padded her hair.

‘You… have not read any of the new prophecies before burning them, by any chance?’ Aziraphale asked cautiously above her head.

Anathema shook it.

‘Well.’ Aziraphale nodded, understanding. ‘Maybe it is time to follow your heart now instead of what Agnes Nutter wanted. And I did feel the spark of love you and the young man shared the other day. Maybe that is your new guiding star, dear. It seems the prophecies are gone for good.’

Anathema stopped crying and looked up at her comforter. ‘About that. I was thinking.’ she started, leaning over and pulling something spacious out of a travel bag.

The angel and the demon exchanged glances.

The occultist brought a big glass jar back up, showing it to the two men. Both entities were raising their eyebrows in confusion.

‘Sand?’ Aziraphale wondered.

‘Dirt.’ Crowley cuncluded.

‘Ashes.’ Anathema said, in an excited voice.

‘It’s the ashes of the new prophecies. I collected all I could after, you know. And put it in here.’ she explained, looking at the big jar almost proudly.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged glances once again.

‘Aaaaand now you want to… hold a funeral….?’ Crowley mused.

Anathema collected herself, suddenly looking very serious. ‘I want to ask you if there is a way you can bring the book back with this.’

Silence. Anathema looked back and forth between the two men, expecting a reaction. When none came, she decided on throwing some more bread crumbs. ‘I know you have powers.’

Still silence.

‘My memory of the day at the airbase is fading, which I am sure is very much intended. But I have my third eye and written things down and I do remember you’, she pointed at Aziraphale, ‘having a flaming sword. And you’, she pointed to Crowely, ‘doing something that I am sure was stopping time.’

Ongoing silence.

‘I remember you having wings for God's sake.’ Anathema pressed on, now leaning back and folding her arms in front of her, as if she had just made a final argument that could not be disputed.

Silent silence that was ongoing.

‘Look, it’s ok. I understand a bit more than your average human being about supernatural things. I’m aware that things like you exist. Just… I wasn’t on first name terms with any so far, that’s all. So you can drop the act now.’

It took another few heartbeats. Then both pairs of eyes glanced at one another again. Crowley shrugged and made a face. Aziraphale sighed.

‘Alright.’ he said, looking extremely uncomfortable. ‘We are… indeed ah… not quite…not _fully_ human. Which, however, does not mean that we are all mighty and can just make everything we want to happen. I… do not think we can bring your book back.’

‘We had tea with Shadwell and Madame Tracy after the airbase incident.’ Anathema mentioned.

Aziraphale looked ominous. 

‘She told me you had possessed her.’ the witch continued.

The angel grimaced. ‘Possessed is such a demonic word. I rather think of it as sharing her souls living space for a little while out of necessity.’

‘Possessed. You can say possessed.’ Crowley vetoed, grinning.

‘And even if I was.’ Aziraphale emphasised towards his friend. ‘I do not see why this is of any relevance right now - ‘

‘Madame Tracy told me you could talk to spirits and passed on souls.’ Anathema went on.

‘Oh, no.’ Aziraphale said quickly, the penny finally dropping.

‘So that means you could find Agnes in the Afterlife, and -‘

‘No no no, dear, no.’ the angel shook his head vehemently.

‘Why not?’ the occultist pressed on, leaning towards the man.

‘Because I cannot abuse my powers like that. It is not even clear if your dear ancestor is dwelling in the above or the below. It would - it would take a lot of time and effort and - and’ Aziraphale tried.

‘But this way we could find out if I did the right thing or not, what Agnes wanted to tell me. She wanted to get in contact, and this would be a way to -‘

Aziraphale looked incredibly distressed.

‘Look, book girl.’ Crowley said, deciding he had enjoyed Aziraphale’s unease long enough for now. Then he stopped himself. ‘Can I even still call you book girl? Technically you burned that nick name.’ he mused.

Both Aziraphale and Anathema looked at him with raised eyebrows.

‘Bycicle girl! No, that doesn’t sound right.’ Crowley kept rambling.

‘Crowley…’ the angel started.

‘Witch girl! Easy. That should stick.’ Crowley smiled happily.  
When he caught the other two staring at him, he cleared his throat. ‘Right. Anyway. So. Witch girl. The thing is. Aziraphale and me are not on very good terms with the supernatural political ranks, overall. See, they are not happy that the world didn’t end and that we helped make that happen. Or. Not happen. So… my point is. Right now is a very bad time for us to try and meddle in spheres that want us pretty much dead. Our plan, if we even have one, is keep a low profile among the humans for now. Humanly. And not do any supernatural things, especially not a big one like that.’

Aziraphale swallowed loudly and nodded in agreement, his puppy eyes huge.

‘I see.’ Anathema said finally, sounding defeated. ‘I see.’

‘I am so very sorry my dear. I would love to help you, believe me. I am an an-... ah, a being of light, that is what we normally do. But I think at this very moment this would do more harm than good.’ the angel said regretfully.

The occultist smiled weakly. ‘I understand. I was just so sure this is what Agnes had wanted me to do, to find a way to communicate with her….’

‘I am inconsolable, Anathema. I am so sorry.’ Aziraphale said again, hugging the young woman and padding her back.

Anathema nodded in the angels’ shoulder. ‘I just wish Agnes would give me a sign. Just one little hint so I know what to do…’

‘ANATHEMA!’ a call could be heard echoing through the airport hall.

Anathema startled and got up, looking around. Aziraphale and Crowley were trying to find the caller as well.

‘ANATHEMA!’ 

She spotted him first. A young distressed looking man almost running along the different terminals, looking wildly around, searching.

The angel and the demon saw her face light up and without thinking, she was lifting up her long skirt with one hand and started running.

As Newt saw his girlfriend running towards him, his arms flew wide open and he caught her, hugging her tightly, swirling her around.

Anathema was murmuring apologies in his ear and he gave understanding and love in return. They laughed and they kissed and looked painfully like the end of any romantic comedy movie ever made.

‘There she has her clue.’ the demon said, watching the two humans make up.

‘Aaah, isn’t this lovely?’ Aziraphale said happily, coming to stand next to Crowley. 

‘Yeah. Whatever you want to call it.’ 

So they stood for a little while longer, Aziraphale beaming, Crowley’s expression hidden behind his glasses.

The angel put his hands on his chest, closing his eyes in pure delight. ‘Aaaah. So much young love surrounds them. I feel it blooming.’

‘Yeah. Go nuts. Bath in it. Must be like ecstasy to you.’ Crowley said a bit cynically.

‘Well. It certainly is a wonderful feeling.’ the angel hesitated, glancing at his best friend. ‘You can’t feel it?’

‘No.’

‘Ah.’ Aziraphale’s smile lessened a bit.

A few more moments passed.

‘Ever tried it?’ Crowley asked.

‘Tried what?’ Aziraphale responded.

‘That.’ he gestured towards the love birds. ‘Kissing and… all that.’

‘Oh.’ Aziraphale looked taken aback, a pale shade of pink extending across his cheeks. He kept his eyes sternly straight ahead. ‘Er. I. Mh. No. Angel’s are beings of… of love. The pure platonic kind of love. That surrounds all. The… ah… actual physical expression is not really part of it.’

Crowley didn’t say anything.

‘I am sure you must have done it?’ Aziraphale now asked, starting to wiggle this way and that.

‘Must I?’ 

‘Well. You being a demon and all. Lust and… and sexual temptations are part of your skill set I would expect.’

‘I tempt humans to do this… this messy stuff with each other, not with _me_.’ Crowley said, nose wrinkling as if he smelled something bad.

‘It does look a bit messy.’ Aziraphale confessed. ‘But something about it must feel pretty nice. Otherwise humans would not long for it so much.’

Again, his friend didn’t answer. The angel glanced up at him. Crowley glanced briefly back, before shuffling away. ‘Come on. I think we are no longer needed here.’

‘Rather not.’ Aziraphale agreed, turning to follow Crowley. One last time his eyes lingered on the forgotten glass jar, containing the lost prophecy ashes.

‘Angel.’

‘I - I’m coming.’

——-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *SPOILER* BOOK GOOD OMENS:
> 
> In the book, Adam actually does see Agnes' face in the smoke that is coming out of the chimney of Jasmine Cottage when Anathema burns the prophecies. So I took this and altered it just so that Anathema sees the face instead of Adam. In my mind, they were burning the prophecies not in the Cottage, but maybe next to it with a little camp fire on the meadow, so the smoke would be visible to them.


	3. Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit of a fluffy one with a touch of naughtiness before the overall story gets pushed forward.  
Also, I know that Neil has said somewhere on his social media that Crowley and Aziraphale don't breathe (and also don't have a heartbeat I think). But since you can use those things so wonderfully in fics I decided to ignore canon and give them both :D.  
Enjoy!

_~_

_‘Love to run my fingers _  
Softly while you sigh  
Love came and possessed you  
Bringing sparkles to your eyes 

_Like a trip to heaven _  
Heaven is the prize  
And I'm so glad I found you  
You're an angel in disguise’ 

_ Michael Jackson; I can’t help it  _

_~_

On their way home, traffic was so bad not even the Bentley found a way to sneak through the long honking car lines. Crowley was complaining about Aziraphale’s compulsive help offering that had landed them in this situation while Queen’s ‘Under Pressure’ was blasting in the background.

But the angel was not entirely paying attention, and was not so much as reacting with non committed sounds to the demon’s banters.

Two things were on his mind. Firstly, the day was drawing to an end and it would be proper evening before they got home. Which would present the question of a potential sleep over again. So far one of them had already always been at the home of the other when night time came around. So it was easy and natural to just… do it. But now they were out and about, at none of their homes. They had not even agreed where they were driving. It did not matter yet. The highway they were driving on brought them so far to both Soho and Mayfair. But at some point the direction would split up and then they would have to decide where to drive. Meaning they would have to actually talk about and decide on sleeping arrangements. 

The second thought on his mind was even more distressing. And that was their brief conversation before they had left Heathrow airport. Why did Crowley ask him if he had ever kissed someone? Did it mean something? Or nothing at all? In the light of their latest newly found physical ground when it came to hand holding and… and cuddling while sleeping… it caused Aziraphale’s stomach to make a few extra flips. 

He had told Crowley the truth of it. Angel’s were beings of love. Not lust or any other kind of sexual desires. Aziraphale was no exception. He did not feel any sexual drive, never had. 

But here now came the tricky part. All this was true, if you excluded a certain grumpy demon from the equation, who right now was cutting a little old Fiat so tight while overtaking, that its side mirror flew off. 

Aziraphale for once did not scold, but merely glanced over, drinking in Crowley’s side profile. 

Yes. Crowley was where the white stopped and the grey began. And where, every now and then, in the past 6000 years, he had suspected that his (pure angel) love for him was not where it ended. And ever since 1941 was when it got especially complicated. Because this was when he, for the first time, started to feel a definite physical reaction also. A feeling very foreign to him up to this point. What he would do to meet those reactions was something he would not admit to anyone ever. He would bury those occurrences so deep within himself, he could almost forget about them. _Almost._  
It had not happened a lot. And it had not happened in quite a while. 

But, with the latest developments, he had felt his body being more receptive again. No matter how determinedly he tried to exterminate those lecherous seeds, so far they had stayed rather unimpressed by his efforts. And now this unbelievable demon had nothing better to do than starting a conversation about kissing. How was he supposed to keep those desires down like that? He was an angel, he was not meant to deal with this, for God’s sake. 

And the most terrifying aspect of it all was, that suddenly there was no proper reason anymore to keep those feelings down. Which was, in itself, already a reason to panic. Add to that the fear of rejection and you had one of the best recipe’s for an anxiety attack.

An impatient ‘Aziraphale.’ suddenly ripped the angel out of his brooding.

‘… Yes?’

‘I asked if I should drop you off at the bookshop.’

‘Er…’ _Damn._ He had been caught up in his own thoughts so much that he did not realise they had already reached the highway exit to Soho.

All the possibilities what he could say swam in his head. The only one that surfaced was:  
‘Yes. Please.’

Using silent swear words he would (almost) never utter out loud, they drove on through the night until the Bentley purred to a halt in front of Aziraphale’s home.

The angel was just about to wish Crowley a good night, when he realised that the demon was exiting the car as well.

‘You - you are coming in?’ Aziraphale asked.

‘I think I left my necklace in the bookshop earlier.’ Crowley responded.

‘Ah. I see.’ Aziraphale said, trying to remember when and why Crowley would have taken off his necklace.

They both crossed the street, and Crowley stepped aside so Aziraphale could unlock the shop. As they entered, the angel pushed over a small pile of mail on the floor, and he quickly picked up the letters.

‘So, where did you say you left it?’ he asked Crowley.

‘Uh…’ his friend said slowly, sauntering around, searching. ‘Not sure.’

‘Well, we were only here briefly at the phone. So maybe on the sofa next to it?’ the angel suggested while skimming through his mail. A bright blue leaflet caught his eye. But before he could read it, Crowley said: ‘Oh, yeah. Here it is.’ The demon bent down and snatched a long silver chain off the sofa, half hidden behind a cushion.

'Good.' Aziraphale looked at Crowley. Crowley was looking back. The necklace was dangling from his hand. There was an awkward silence.

‘Alright then, I’ll be popping along.’ the demon then said casually, slowly making his way towards the door.

‘Yes. J- Jolly good.’ the angel responded, wrestling with himself not to invite Crowley to stay.

‘Good night, angel.’ the demon said, touching Aziraphale’s shoulder and squeezing gently, a small smile on his lips. ‘Don’t stay up too long digging through those new books of yours.’

Aziraphale was certain the demon must hear his hammering heart. Crowley licked his lips. Azirapahle was unable to look anywhere else but to the soft shimmer his saliva had left on them.  
_Oh, good lord, what are you doing to me?_

’N- No. Try… try not to.’ the angel finally stammered when he realised it was his response Crowley was waiting for. The demon ended the touch with a soft clap on the shoulder and left into the night.

Aziraphale did not wait to see Crowley drive away. He shut the door, locked it vehemently and made his way to his books. Yes, that was what he needed to get his mind off things now. Dive into his library, shake off those maddening thoughts. And also the tightness in his groin. 

The angel left his mail forgotten on the phone table, and walked through the book shelves, his index finger running along the book titles to see which books were not in their right order or new. Concentration wouldn’t come easy and more than once he had to walk a shelf several times because his mind kept wandering and he noticed too late, he did read the titles without reading them.

Aziraphale noticed that most of the new books were children books or books that a kid would think were cool. He had to smile at Adam’s innocence. It was also clear, that Anathema had had a lasting influence on the former antichrist. Some books were about conspiracy theories, environmental books advising for ecological sustainability. And then there were space cowboys and dinosaur books. And a pirate detective book, which Aziraphale found must have been written by Adam himself.

One book however really peeked his interest. It didn’t fit to any of the former categories. It was a book about how to summon spirits and people who have passed away. Curious, thought Aziraphale, running his fingers along his chin. Was this Adams doing or rather…?

Flicking through it, he thought back to the conversation they had with Anathema today. About her request. Which probably was not important anymore, given that she welcomed her new boyfriend back into her life. Maybe he should let this rest and see if the young woman could not indeed find her happiness by being her own person. By finding her path herself, maybe walking it together with this Newton Pulsifer.

The angel thought back to how happy the two of them looked at the airport. How he could feel the love growing inside his chest. Which, in turn, brought him back to Crowley, and his casual question. And what he had been trying to avoid for the last hour, came back to him full circle now. 

His thoughts swirled around the demon once again, eyes hidden as he had touched his shoulder. His long tongue wetting his thin lips. The angel felt a hotness spread in his groin again. This was getting ridiculous. And embarrassing.

Aziraphale closed the book with a little thud. He knew what he needed to do. Right now. Maybe this would give him some temporary release and… distribute the blood in his body more evenly again. Mainly back to his brain, where he needed it.

The angel’s bedroom was held in the same style his bookshop was. And his clothes were. He was not as fond of sleeping as Crowley was, but that did not mean his bedroom did not look cozy and inviting with a bed that could have sprung right out of Queen Victoria’s day and age. 

But the reason the angel was seeking out this room right now was not because of the bed. It was because of the huge golden mirror that was towering next to the cupboard. Not that Aziraphale needed a mirror much. It was more of an antique collector’s pride, to have it set up there. 

Right now, however, he very much intended to use it. To meet his big, glossy eyes, and watching himself wet his lips as Crowley had done just an hour ago. His eyes wandered down along his usual wardrobe. And lingered where the pants seemed much tighter than usual.

Aziraphale started to undress completely, until he faced himself naked. 

It was not the sight of his round hips, his soft belly or the blonde curly hair covering his chest and his groin that made his breath go faster. It was his erection glowing pink and needy straight forward and the image Aziraphale had in his mind that made it twitch almost painfully.

‘Crowley.’ he whispered. His fingers curled around his manhood. He gasped.

The angel touched himself gently, trying not to hurry. He forced himself not to close his eyes. He wanted to look at himself while he was doing what he was doing. Not because it gave him any kind of additional kick. He did it because he wanted to see himself this way. This new way that he had never thought of as part of him. 

He wanted to see how he would come to terms with this. If he would be appalled by what he saw himself do. Or disgusted. Or afraid.

But none of those emotions came. Only pleasure. And need. And Crowley’s name over and over again until his climax was throwing the angel forward, supporting himself against the mirror as his hot gasps were creating damp spots on the glass. 

‘Angel. Angel! Come on, I know you’re home!’ 

Aziraphale whirled around in shock as Crowley’s voice was echoing through the flat.

Oh, by all the demons and angels in this world and the next. Was he in trouble.

~ ~ ~ ~

Aziraphale was sure he had never miracled himself into clothes that fast, cleaning up the little mess he had made with the same hand movement.

‘H-Hello?’ he called back, waiting for an answer. None came.

Carefully he opened the door and peeked out. ‘Crowley?’

‘I’m running out of patience here. Get your nose out of those ancient pages and pick up the damn phone!’ he could hear from downstairs.

_Ooooh…._

The angel breathed a few times deeply in and out while going downstairs to his phone. 

It was only the answering machine. For a second there he thought Crowley might burst in and…

‘H-Hello, Crowley.’ Aziraphale said after picking up the receiver, focusing on making his voice not sound fickle.

‘Where in Heaven’s were you?’ Crowley asked, annoyed.

‘Er…’ Aziraphale began.

‘Anyway, I was just driving past the Moonlight Sonata and they have their grand reopening tonight.’

‘D-Do they now?’ Aziraphale asked.

‘Yeah. They laid it on thick by the looks of it. Quite the party. Want to go?’

Aziraphale’s gaze fell on the mail again that he had placed next to the phone earlier. The pile had fallen over a bit and the bright blue leaflet peaked out, exposing the word ‘Moonlight’. The angel pulled it out and finally looked at it properly.

It was indeed a leaflet announcing the reopening, dated for tonight.

‘Angel?’ he heard on the other end.

‘Y-Yes. I was just discovering a leaflet declaring they open again. Sounds lovely, dear. Wait, let me call a cab.’

‘No need. I’m at your place in two minutes.’

‘How can you - Were you already driving back here before you even called?’ the angel asked.

‘Well, yeah.’ Crowley responded, as if that was a stupid question.

‘What if I had said no?’ Aziraphale asked, amused.

‘Yeah, right. One of your favourite spots opens again with lots of good food and old fine brandy and you think there would be even the slightest possibility of you declining.’ Crowley elaborated.

‘Actually, I would prefer to stay - ‘ Aziraphale began.

‘Come out, angel. I’m here.’

Aziraphale sighed, and gave up. 

He made sure that he looked put together before exiting the bookshop and sitting himself down into the Bentley.

‘Hi, again.’ Crowley chimed, apparently in a much better mood than when they had driven back from the hospital. ‘You alright?’ he added with a glance before pulling back onto the street.

‘Yes. Of course. Why would I not be alright?’ Aziraphale asked, a bit too quickly.

‘I don’t know. You look a bit… out of breath?’ Crowley looked at him now more thoroughly. ‘Have you done some sort of exercise? You are flushed and sweaty.’

Aziraphale felt called out. ‘That is ridiculous! Since when would I do exercises? Angel’s don’t need to do exercises. We are not human! We don’t have any human exercising needs. Ever.’

The demon frowned, utterly confused. ‘Alright. Alright.’ he said soothingly, holding his hands up in surrender.

‘I was simply… rearranging furniture upstairs.’ the angel said matter-of factly.

‘Ah.’ Crowley nodded, frown only deepening. ‘Instead of reading your new books?’

‘Yes.’ Aziraphale said vehemently, trying to flatten down his hair. ‘That… needed to be taken care of first. The rearranging, that is.’

‘Right.’ the demon responded, not sounding convinced. But he realised it seemed a bad time to push it, so he let it go.

The Moonlight Sonata had been one of the celestials' favourite bar/restaurant in the last 50 years or so. It was located on top of a hill looking over a good part of London. The food was exquisite, and the wine old and expensive.  
But the real reason it had become so popular with them, was simply that it was open from sunset until sunrise. So it had been the perfect hangout spot for an angel and a demon who did not need to sleep and just wanted to drink the night away, or ask for arrangement favours, or, as in recent years, discuss Armageddon strategies. Which was why both Crowley and Aziraphale complained loudly as the Moonlight Sonata closed for several months due to reconstruction.

As the Bentley parked on the hill next to the restaurant, Aziraphale had calmed his nerves a little bit and he looked at the familiar place with a smile.

‘They made it much bigger.’ he mentioned as Crowley got out next to him.

‘Yep.’ he said.

‘Pretty busy tonight.’ the angel noticed.

‘I’m sure a table will demonically be free for us.’ the demon said, glancing at his friend with a grin.

And, in fact, there was a table free. It was in the outside area, one of the best views over the city. 

A waitress was gesturing for them to sit while she placed the menu’s on the table in front of them. They ordered their favourite drinks right away and the young woman nodded politely and shuffled away.

Crowley was studying the new menu, while Aziraphale took the scenery in for a moment. They really had done a marvellous job in renewing this place. Both the inside and outside area was buzzing with people. There were heat lamps stationed everywhere outside, plus blankets at each table. Soft shining lanterns were flickering everywhere across the outside porch while a piano player was playing both old and modern classics. The cool autumn air was buzzing with people talking, laughing and eating, all while Londons lights were twinkling in the background. From up here, the busy capital looked calm and peaceful.

The angel smiled broadly, facing Crowley again. He had the menu still folded out in front of him. But the angle of his head made it impossible to say, if his shaded eyes were still scanning the menu, or answering Aziraphale’s look.

The piano player started Hans Zimmer's Maestro.

‘It’s beautiful here.’ the angel said.

‘Ja. Thought you would like it.’ Crowley answered. ‘So. What are you having?’

‘Actually.’ Azitaphale said, his eyes darting over the menu. ‘I think I will only have a little bite.’

‘How come?’ Crowley asked.

‘Well… I… just seem not to be that hungry.’

‘You are peculiar tonight.’ Crowley stated, now most definitely looking intently at his friend.

‘Nonsense.’ Aziraphale disagreed, just as their wine arrived.

The angel ordered some sweet bacon wrapped dates while Crowley was satisfied with Japanese green beans with sesame dressing.

They stayed mostly silent while the first round of wine hit their stomachs. As the second round of drinks came around and their food was set in front of them, Aziraphale felt composed enough to chat.  
‘I have been meaning to ask you. Those glorious plants you are growing in your appartment.’

Crowley looked up, chewing.

‘What are you doing to them?’ Aziraphale asked.

‘What d’you mean?’ Crowley asked back.

‘Well, when I was admiring them, they… how should I say… shivered.’

‘They better do.’ Crowley responded.

‘I could feel their fear.’ Aziraphale explained further.

‘Good.’ Crowley seemed pleased.

‘Good? My dear, what on earth are you doing to them?’

‘Just teaching them to play by my rules.’

‘Which are?’

‘To grow fast and wide. No spots.’ the demon said sober (not that he was anymore).

‘And if they don’t comply?’ Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shrugged. ‘They get shredded.’

‘Don’t you think that maybe love and compassion would have a more substantial effect?’ the angel suggested.

‘Nah.’ the demon simply answered. ‘I’m a demon. Fear cuts deeper, believe me.’

‘Fear cuts deeper than love?’ the angel repeated in disbelief.

‘Of course.’ Crowley reinforced.

‘My dear Crowley -‘ the angel started, unable to let a statement like this go without interjection.

‘Spare me.’ the demon cut in. ‘I know you as an angel have to preach that love conquers all and so on and so forth. But, believe me. I’m fallen. I speak from personal experience when I say: fear does cut deeper.’

‘Well.’ Aziraphale put his elbows on the table, folding his hands loosely. ‘In order for you to be able to judge that, you must also have personally experienced love.’

‘Who says I haven’t?’ Crowley questioned, popping a bean into his mouth.

‘You… you have?’ the angel blinked.

‘Do you mean to finish mending my book?’ Crowley asked, changing the subject.

Aziraphale looked puzzled. ‘… your… oh! Yes. You saw. I meant to finish it in one sitting, I just… got tired, I think.’ he ended weakly.

‘There is no rush.’ Crowley smiled a one sided smile.

‘Why did you rip them all out? The pages, I mean.’ the angel asked.

‘Was quicker that way to decide for a destination to flee to.’ Crowley explained.

‘Ah.’ Aziraphale felt suddenly ashamed.

In that moment the piano player announced that the blanket area was now open and guests should feel free to join. It was an old custom of the place and both Crowley and Aziraphale knew what it meant. Later in the evening, when not much food was being served anymore, they would open the gras area around the piano player, where the guests could grab a big blanket, spread it on the gras and sit there with their drinks, listening to the tunes. It was wildly popular with couples especially. The two celestials had never joined it, but now Aziraphale felt an itch. 

Crowley caught his longing look. ‘You want to go?’

‘Oh. I - I don’t know.’ Aziraphale said quickly, smiling unsure.

The demon rearranged his shades, got up and offered his hand to his friend. ‘Come.’

The angel stared at the outstretched hand, then at its owner. He wanted to say something, but no words would come. Instead Aziraphale grabbed the offered hand with his own and Crowley pulled him along behind him. Aziraphale tried very hard not to grin.

They took a blanket and made themselves comfortable on it.

The piano player now started to play Pictures of an Exhibition by Mussorgsky. The clientele for this part of the evening hadn’t changed, Aziraphale found as he glanced around. They were surrounded by couples snuggling up to each other, holding hands, drinking and kissing. _Oh, my._

While the demon was leaning back on his hands, Aziraphale sat rather stiff next to him, trying to concentrate on the music. His mind, however, came back to their prior conversation.

‘I think an apology is in order.’ he said after several minutes had passed.

Crowley tilted his head towards him, eyebrows raised in a questioning expression. ‘For what?’

‘For…’ Aziraphale paused. ‘… for not going with you. To Alpha Centauri.’

‘Don’t worry about it, angel. We did the right thing sticking around, as it turned out.’ the demon answered. 

‘Yes. But still… you were right. About… heaven. And I did not want to believe it. And I think I treated you rather harshly… I should have chosen my loyalties better and quicker. And for that I am sorry.’

‘You can be such a sappy overthinker.’ Crowley smiled, tilting his head further down.

‘Crowley, you could at least take it seriously when I try to -‘ the angel went on, a bit upset.

‘Yes. Yes. Alright. I hear you. Apology accepted. Even though, for the record, there was none needed.’ Crowley said, smile vanishing. ‘And again, it was the right thing to do. Not giving up faith. In Her. In humanity. And little Adam. So, it’s all good, angel. If I had a bit more of that faith of yours, my wings would still be white.’

Crowley smiled. Aziraphale was sure he meant to look cool, as usual. But it missed the mark, and it turned out to show much more of the actual emotion: regret.

_Oh, Crowley…_  
Aziraphale wanted to hug him, pull him into a tight embrace, whisper in his ear that is was all going to be ok. But he did not know how to do that. So he decided to do something a few gears down.

‘May I…?’ he asked unsure, slowly coming closer and laying his head down on the demon’s shoulder.  
He noticed Crowley’s breath stop and his body freeze. Tense the angel looked up, waiting for a response.

‘Y- Yes.’ came finally the confirmation and Aziraphale relaxed a little. A few moments they sat like this, before the angel felt his friend swallow, and shortly after Crowley’s head came down and rested softly on Aziraphale’s. Shortly afterwards, a warm arm came slithering around the angel’s back and closed around his upper arm, pulling him even closer. Aziraphale closed his eyes automatically, taking a deep breath. This felt almost better than the half secret snuggling in the night. This felt much more visible. More acknowledged. Aziraphale pressed closer into Crowley’s neck, smelling his rich and sharp cologne.

‘You are cold again, angel.’ Crowley said silently. Aziraphale could feel the vibration of the demon’s voice on his head.

‘Not anymore now.’ Aziraphale smiled.

‘Will you finish mending my book tonight?’ Crowley asked.

‘I thought there was no rush.’ Aziraphale teased.

He felt Crowley chuckling lightly. ‘There isn’t.’

The angel looked satisfied. ‘Of course I come with you.’

And so they both sat, listening to the piano tunes and their breathings, as time seemed to stand still in the Moonlight Sonata.

===


	4. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on we go, this time from our favourite demon's POV :).  
Enjoy!

_~_

_Our story goes_  
_He went down to the crossroads_  
_He sat down and kept his eyes closed_  
_Well, everyone has a price, child_  
_And what it cost him_  
_Was his soul_

_ _

_\- Avicii; Long road to hell  
_

_~_

Crowley couldn’t tell how long he slept. Maybe it was one night. Maybe it was a week. What he could tell though, was that he was not ready to wake up yet when he heard someone call his name.

‘Crowley. _Crowley_.’

Sleep prevented him from noticing the urgency in the voice. 

‘Sod off.’ he mumbled, like a grumpy kid who doesn’t want to get up for school.

Something next to him shifted. He faintly noticed a hand closing on his shoulder and then a spasm shooting through him, and a white light flashing in front of his closed eyes.

‘Woah! What the-‘ Crowley’s head shot up and he blinked in bewilderment.

When his eyes focused, he looked into Aziraphale’s face. ‘Angel! What the heaven’s d’you do that for?’ he complained.

‘Well, you would not wake up.’ Aziraphale responded smugly. ‘And also..’ he cleared his throat and glanced sideways. ‘… we have company.’

Crowley frowned at his friend, words not registering right away. ‘Do weeeee.’ he yawned loudly, faintly noticing that when he ruffled a hand through his hair, he had to first take his arm off Aziraphale’s shape, huddled underneath the blanket. _Huh._

The demon sat up, looking around and suddenly feeling wide awake. He stared at several demons gathered around his bed, watching him.

‘Oh, shit.’ Crowley breathed, snake eyes darting between his former people. ‘Hi guys. Next time give me a ring before you come over, so I can make breakfast.’ he said in a weak attempt to sound casual. He felt Aziraphale stiffening up next to him.

The demons exchanged puzzled looks, which reminded Crowley that the concept of breakfast or ‘giving a ring’ was lost on them. He also noticed he did not recognise any of those demons. Satan had probably completely restaffed after Almostgeddon.

‘Look, we already went through the extinction by holy water ordeal. Do we really have to go through this again? Or did Michael miracle up the holiness percentage in the water you are using this time?’ Crowley asked.

‘Hail… Crowley.’ one demon finally said, raising a hand uncertainly. Others repeated the greeting. ‘Hail Crowley.’

‘Uh…’ Crowley exchanged a confused glance with the angel. 

‘Hail… hail me?’ he repeated, baffled.

The demons shuffled closer. Aziraphale and Crowley automatically crawled backwards, until their backs hit the end of the bed.

‘We saw what you did.’ one of them said. 

‘You did?’ Crowley asked.

‘Surviving Holy Water.’ another whispered, as if it was something not fit to say out loud. All the other demons nodded and whispered in agreement.

Crowley smirked. ‘Oh, well.’ He made a throw away movement with his hand and could feel Aziraphale’s eyes drilling into him in silent warning.

‘Teach us.’ another demon now said eagerly. 

‘Yes.’ another reinforced.

‘Please.’ a third begged.

‘Teach us, master Crowley.’ the first one repeated.

‘Uh… well… you know, the thing is, this is not really something you can… uhm… learn?’ Crowley scratched the back of his head.

‘We want to join.’ said a demon with a praying mantis on his head.

‘Join what?’ Crowley asked.

‘Your side.’ the mantis demon replied.

‘Yes.’ another agreed.

‘Hell sucks.’ a third exclaimed.

‘We hate it there.’ the second one added.

‘It’s dark.’

‘And cold! Satan has put hellfire under conservation regulations!’

‘There are always leakages.’

‘And so much paperwork.’

‘The memos make you depressed!’

‘Beelzebub is a bully!’

The list went on and on as the demons outbid themselves listing all of hell’s shortcomings.

Crowley’s eyes seemed to retreat within its sockets with every new comment. Eventually he made a calming gesture with his hands to shut them up. ‘Guys, guys, guys. Calm down.’

They immediately hushed, and looked at Crowley in awe.

‘Now. I know how it is down there.’ Crowley began, talking slowly as if he was trying to explain something complicated to children, looking at each and every demon all around. ‘It has been like this for the best bit of eternity and I can't say I particularly enjoyed my time. But I am just like you guys, with er… a slightly better fashion sense maybe.’ he added, in an afterthought. ‘I can’t help you with this.’

‘But ah…’ Aziraphale finally dared to speak. ‘They - they did not ask you to fix Hell. I believe they asked you to allow them to switch sides.’

‘Oh, so this is an official side now, the Our Side Party? Where people can join?’ Crowley asked sarcastically.

Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak, but got interrupted with the outcries of approval from the demonic entities in the room. 

‘Yes!’ 

‘Let us join your party!’ 

‘Please, Master!’

Crowley rounded on his former people again. ‘Master? What in the nine Realms of Hell do you think I am? What do you think I can tell you or teach you?’ He was getting worked up now, a seed of panic starting to bloom in the pits of his stomach.

‘Imagination!’ one said.

'Holy Water immunity!' another listed.

‘How to survive on Earth.’ the mantis demon added.

‘How to blend in among humans!’ a fourth suggested.

‘How to get an ethereal boyfriend!’ whispered another.

It was a good thing Crowley’s body did not relay on constant heartbeats as humans did. Because his heart missed a few in that moment. ‘Wha - ?’

‘Oh.’ he heard Aziraphale exclaim, shifting a few inches away from him, apparently very occupied with rearranging the sheets.

Crowley started to point between him and the angel. ‘That - that’s not what - . We are - uh - we don’t really use these… these earthly labels anyways. Right, angel?’ he glanced at his best friend for help.

‘Indeed, indeed, my dear.’ Aziraphale mumbled, now focusing on straightening his nightgown.

Crowley’s eye twitched. Was this the moment to call him ‘my dear’?

‘Anyways.’ Crowley summarised. ‘We as, you know, higher beings of light and darkness, are above such er… oppressive terms in any case. So!’ he clapped his hands together. ‘Look, you guys kind of threw this at me right now and I think, we… that is, angel and I, need to discuss this a bit further. Could you maybe go for a bit of shopping and come back in an hour or two?’

The demons looked at each other as if Crowley had just suggested they have a holy water milkshake.

‘Shopping… shopping…’ the mantis demon mumbled, deeply frowning, as if he was thinking hard of an answer to a difficult question he had been asked.

Crowley groaned.

‘Oh, I think we can be a bit more hospitable than that.’ Aziraphale said, climbing out of the bed and rubbing his hands. ‘Let me make you some nice hot cocoa for you all, and then you go ahead and make yourselves comfortable and at home here while we discuss the issue.’  
He beamed his irresistible smile. ‘Come, come, fellows, after me.’ he waved them along as he made his way to the door. The demons sprang out of the way as if they were afraid the angel’s closeness alone might make them discorporate on the spot. 

After an initial hesitation, they followed Aziraphale in respectful distance slowly out of the bedroom.

Crowley watched the scene with disbelieving eyes, not sure if he should be amused or freaked out. When the last demon had left the room, he let himself fall backwards into the cushions and exclaim several not very nice swear words towards the ceiling.

~ ~ ~ ~

The sun had risen above London and the city had fully awoken with its usual buzzing and rustling on the streets. While inside a luxurious apartment in Mayfair, several demons were standing and strolling through Crowley’s living quarters, sipping hot steaming cocoa all in white big mugs with angel wings as a handle. Many were talking to one another, others were inspecting the many foreign looking devices and furnitures in the flat, everyone wearing a look of pure confusion.

Aziraphale beamed with joy as he hustled through the crowd, making sure everyone was happy and comfortable, or if someone would rather prefer tea.

‘Angel.’ Crowley hissed impatiently, grabbing Aziraphale by the elbow and pulling him to a stop. ‘We need to talk. Come on.’

‘Yes of course, my dear. I just want to make sure our guests have everything they require.’

‘Our guests? What is this, a cocktail party? They are occult trespassers. In America they shoot people for less.’ Crowley growled.

‘Oh, please Crowley, don’t be so dramatic.’ Aziraphale clicked his tongue.

‘Dramatic?’ Crowley raised his eyebrows.

‘Excuse me, Master Crowley?’ the praying mantis demon approached hesitantly.

Crowley grimaced, as if in pain. ‘Don’t call me that.’ he hissed.

‘Yes, dear?’ Azriaphale said, smiling.

‘I… uh… just wanted to say…’ he seemed to have trouble getting the words out of his mouth, his eyes rolling up in sheer concentration.

‘Oh my, is he… alright?’ Aziraphale asked Crowley worried.

‘Yeah. Demons are just not used to saying thank you or nice things in general. He’ll get there.’ Crowley responded, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Waiting.

The demon still tried to articulate, and started trembling. Then…

‘Thank you! Thank you, ’s what I wanted to say.’ the mantis demon finally blurred out, smiling proudly of his accomplishment. ‘Very decent of you to have us.’

‘Decent. Yeah.’ Crowley growled. Aziraphale gave him the elbow.

Crowley rubbed his ribs and glanced at his friend reproachfully, before another thought occurred to him. ‘Hey uh… what’s your name?’

‘Vermin.’ the demon responded.

Crowley nodded. ‘Nice one. Ok, Vermin. Tell me. How exactly did you leave the downstairs department? Does Beelzebub know you left? Or Satan? Anyone?’ He couldn’t help a slight shudder running down his spine.

The demon named Vermin showed his deep yellow teeth in a wide grin. ‘We were very smart about it. Sneaked out secretly. No one knows we left or that we are here, Master Crowley, don’t you worry.’

‘Ah.’ Crowley nodded slowly, very much worrying. Demons were many things, but smart or imaginative were not part of it. Especially not when they thought they were. ‘That’s what I feared. Alrighty then, excuse us for a minute.’ Crowley said, waving at Vermin as he pulled Aziraphale along.

~ ~ ~ ~

As the doors fell shut behind them, Crowley dropped his sarcastic persona and let what was underneath surface. Blank panic.

‘What are we gonna do?’ he asked Aziraphale, circling the angel.

‘Would you calm down, dear? This is not the end of the world!’ the angel said, turning on the spot to keep facing the moving demon.

‘No. We already had that a few days ago.’ Crowley reminded him.

Aziraphale exhaled and rolled his eyes. ‘Crowley, please. I personally think this whole affair has a rather thrilling element to it.’

The demon stopped pacing and looked at the angel in disbelief. ‘Oh?’

‘You are a pioneer! An revolutionary! Giving the poor forgotten creatures of darkness a light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.’ Aziraphale tried, smiling.

The demon looked at his friend as if the angel had hit his head very badly. ’There is no light!’ he exclaimed, voice pitching high. ‘We did a little switcheroo thingy. That’s it! That’s all there is. And it is probably just a matter of time before our former sides work that out and end both of us after all. And those poor idiots out there as well for being traitors.’

He only stopped after he felt Aziraphale’s hand around his own. The demon had to fight his immediate instinct to pull away. He cursed himself for not wearing his shades yet.

But Aziraphale kept his eyes on the demon’s hand, holding it up and placing a warm steaming cocoa angel cup in it. ‘Drink. That’ll help.’ he said kindly.

‘I’m not a big fan of that chocolaty stuff.’ Crowley eyed the angel, the edge in his voice a bit softened.

Aziraphale answered with a soft blow over the hot beverage. ‘Here, then. Coffee.’

‘I don’t need-‘

‘Irish. Coffee.’

‘Ah. Now we’re talking.’ Crowley nodded, leading the cup to his lips.

‘So. As you are normally the optimist amongst the two of us, a quality that has temporarily deserted you as it seems, let me try to take up the task.’ the angel said calmly, miracling a spoon and stirring in his own cup. Crowley wondered if it was Irish coffee as well.

The demon spread his hands wide. ‘Be my guest.’

‘As it seems you have three choices. One: you decline their request and send them back where they came from.’

‘Which would be equal to sentencing them to extinction.’ Crowley remarked.

‘But Vermin said no one-‘ the angel started.

Crowley shook his head. ‘Believe me when I tell you. Hell has noticed by now. And as I have told you before. My lot doesn’t send rude notes when their people misbehave. They don’t give second chances. Being in hell already is a second chance of some sort.’ he added.

Aziraphale looked at his swirling beverage. ‘Very well. Option number two is, you decline, but suggest they maybe try to hide amongst humans, blend into the crowd to maybe avert their punishment.’

Crowley chuckled. ‘Angel. Have you looked at them when I suggested they go shopping? Those are no Dukes of Hell, no Demon Lords or other hierarchical figures. They are the lowest lot you can find in the deepest burning embers. They have never been here before, don’t know a thing about humans and how to survive here. My best guess is their prior jobs were cleaning up the hell beasts dung or sorting papers in a broom cupboard. It would be a nightmare setting them loose here.’

‘You really should not talk this way about your former - oh, alright, then.’ Aziraphale sighed. ‘Option number three: you take them on.’

‘As what?’

‘As… members of our group?’ the angel tried.

Crowley took a deep sip of his mug. He winced, then took another sip. And another. ‘Gi’me another one, angel.’ he said through gritted teeth.

Aziraphale made a rising hand gesture, and the mug filled itself up again.

‘Cheers.’ he raised the mug to his lips once more before snorting and approaching is best friend. ‘Our side, Aziraphale.’ he started. ‘That was meant to be… you know, a you and me kind of thing. Has been for the longest time now, right?’ 

Aziraphale seemed to swallow before nodding.

Crowley felt how the hot Irish coffee was hitting his bloodstream and how it loosened his tongue and eased his nerves. ‘We decided, geographically and metaphorically, for the middle. Broadly speaking. Is tha’ right?’

Aziraphale nodded again.

‘Now, in the light of the latest developments we don’t really know where that will leave us. Very possibly wiped off the face of creation entirely, eventually. We have no idea what to do and how to do it. And now you suggest, we take in a bunch of starry-eyed demons who have no clue what they are in for (and neither have we by the way), and are no help whatsoever. An inconvenience at best, to be frank. Take them in under false pretences as they think I am some kind of wonder boy who defied the very nature of heaven and hell. They will eventually find out and then what? If that lady’, he pointed upwards, ‘and that dude’, he pointed downwards, ‘won’t kill us, then they will try for leading them on and dooming them.’

‘Well, technically they are already doomed-‘

‘You know what I mean, angel.’ Crowley hissed. ‘_Doomed_ doomed. Double doomed. The completely finished extinct kind of doomed. _Puff_ gone doomed.’ he spread his fingers to mimic an explosion.

The angel nodded impatiently. ‘Yes. Yes. I get your point. Alright. So what is your solution then?’

‘I don’t have one.’ Crowley said exasperated, as if that was an obvious thing. ‘Which is why I am freaking out. This is one of those choosing the lesser evil kind of thing. And I’m really bad at that. Too much evil in me to go against my nature. So you choose. Should come natural to you.’ he said, letting himself fall back on an armchair.

‘Given that, our side consists of the both of us, we should also decide this together. Wouldn’t you agree, dear?’

Crowely’s heart warmed. ‘Yes, angel.’ he said, softly. Aziraphale smiled softly, his blue eyes glistening. Crowley hated when the angel’s charm seemed to jump out of his eyes to place little fireworks inside Crowley’s chest.

‘But first, can you miracle out of that frill sheet? I can’t take you seriously with that thing on.’ he quickly said to break the spell.

Aziraphale stopped smiling and looked down at himself. Aghast, he straightened his gown with his free hand. ‘I’ll have you know that this is an antique exquisite sleep gown, which was once very much the rage in Paris and London.’

‘Antique. Indeed.’ Crowley grinned, scratching a place behind his ear.

Aziraphale looked affronted, but snapped his fingers nevertheless. The night gown got immediately replaced by his usual clothes. ‘More to your liking?’ he asked.  
Crowley couldn’t help but grin devilishly. Snappy Aziraphale was one of his favourites.

‘Much better.’

——


End file.
